


Get off the Phone (or how to get off over the phone)

by darkavengerz (darkavenger)



Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2246433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Spideypool Valentine's challenge for liquid-crimson over on Tumblr. <br/>'I could ignore it. Yeah, because that won’t end in disaster. Someone might actually need me, be trying to get in contact with me. This’ll be the one night it’s not a prank call, or a wrong number, or…</p><p>“S’up sexy!”</p><p>“Wade…”</p><p>“Aw, where’s the love? Let’s try that once more with feeling, shall we?”</p><p>“Not tonight Wade, I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“Boo, someone got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.”</p><p>“Somebody’s only just got into bed, and somebody’s not planning on getting outof bed for a long time, so if this is some three am booty call, you can think again, Wade,” Peter says tersely, balancing the phone of the side of his head so he can let his arm flop bonelessly to the mattress.</p><p>“Ooo, somebody’s grouchy,” Wade snickers down the phone, voice annoyingly loud, cheery and very much awake. “Fine, fine, I won’t make you get your lazy butt out of bed -”</p><p>“- lazy?!” Peter splutters, indignant. Wade ignores him and verbally steamrollers over him as per normal.</p><p>“ - we can do this over the phone.” '</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get off the Phone (or how to get off over the phone)

It’s three am when Peter finally, finally gets back to his apartment. Every muscle is aching, and he’s pretty sure at least three of his ribs are cracked. He feels like he got hit by a bus, rather than run over by the Rhino. On the way to his bed, he sheds the shredded remains of another costume. This time there’s not even enough fabric left to salvage with sewing and patching – there was barely enough to get him back to the apartment with his modesty and secret identity intact – he’s pretty sure he was three threads away from public indecency for half the journey home.

 

Sliding in between the cool sheets, Peter closes his eyes, exhaling in sheer pleasure as he sinks into the mattress. He’s exhausted, pushed beyond even his super-human limits, so he’s not happy when his phone goes off.

_I could ignore it. Yeah, because that won’t end in disaster. Someone might actually need me, be trying to get in contact with me. This’ll be the one night it’s not a prank call, or a wrong number, or…_

“S’up sexy!”

“Wade…”

“Aw, where’s the love? Let’s try that once more with feeling, shall we?”

“Not tonight Wade, I’m not in the mood.”

“Boo, someone got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Somebody’s only just got  _into_  bed, and somebody’s not planning on getting  _out_ of bed for a long time, so if this is some three am booty call, you can think again, Wade,” Peter says tersely, balancing the phone of the side of his head so he can let his arm flop bonelessly to the mattress.

“Ooo, somebody’s  _grouchy,”_ Wade snickers down the phone, voice annoyingly loud, cheery and very much awake. “Fine, fine, I won’t make you get your lazy butt out of bed -”

“- lazy?!” Peter splutters, indignant. Wade ignores him and verbally steamrollers over him as per normal.

“ - we can do this over the phone.” Wade voice gets even rougher and drops a whole octave lower than normal, and, despite himself, Peter can feel a faint stirring of arousal low in his belly, along with a certain amount of curiosity at the thought of trying this.

He closes his eyes and tries to squash the feeling. “Can we maybe reschedule?”

Wade splutters. “Are you putting me on  _hold_? Seriously, babe? My mouth is X-rated during the day, you can’t even begin to imagine Deadpool after dark.”

Peters lets out a low whine as he thinks this over. Wade’s mouth is incredibly filthy, and this is probably the only situation his complete lack of shame would come in handy rather than just embarrassing Peter. But on the other hand, he’s so tired he doesn’t think he even has the energy to get himself off.

“So… what are you wearing?” Wade purrs.

Peter’s breathing evens out, limbs slowly relaxing until he’s practically a puddle.

“HEY!! Are you sleeping? C’mon…” Wade’s voice trails off into a whine.

Peter jerks awake guiltily. “Wha…?” There’s a shiny patch of drool on his pillow. Sexy.

Wade’s sigh echoes noisily down the phone. “Fine.” His tone is sarcastic. “I’ll start things off, shall I?”

“Mmm,” Peter murmurs drowsily. It’s kinda nice having Wade’s talking as the background noise to him falling asleep, even if that’s not the point of this late night phone call.

“All right,” Wade says, and Peter can hear his lips smack together in anticipation, “You wanna know what I’m wearing? It’s seriously fucking cute. Like,  _I’d_  fuck me in this dress.

“Oo,” Peter says sleepily.

“Damn right,” Wade grunts, sounding pleased with himself. “I’m even wearing stockings like a classy date.”

“Sounds cute,” Peter smiles, eyes still closed.

“Aw, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“That is technically correct,” Peter affirms.

“Ask me what I’m wearing under this dress,” Wade says.

“What are you wearing under the dress?” Peter asks dutifully.

“Nothing! Ha! Yeah, that’s right, I’ve gone commando,” Wade says gleefully. “I’m a saucy minx. That getting you all hot and bothered yet?”

“Eh,” Peter says non-committally. “You always go commando, Wade. You’re always going on about how if you wear pants under spandex you get underwear lines and it spoils the aesthetics.”

“Well, it does!” Wade insists. “And what alternative is there? Wearing your underwear  _over_  your costumer? Psh, yeah like  _that_  would catch on.”

“That would look weird,” Peter agrees.

“Yeah. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Me, no underwear, sat all lonesome on my bed with my absolutely massive erection and no one to play with.”

“Tragic,” Peter sighs.

“Yeah, nothin’ for me to do but think about a certain superhero with a superhumanly hot ass and take care of it myself, I guess…”

“I’m sure Cap would be touched you thought of him at this  _hard_  time,” Peter says, smirking as he stretches out luxuriously.

“What? No, you nerd! I’m thinking of you! And about how I’d like you to fuck me if you were here,” Wade growls, sounding irritated. “How I’d – ah – want you to touch me just like this -” Wade’s voice cuts out into a gasp, a breathy exhale.

Peter doesn’t know how to respond, but that’s okay because Wade’s clearly just hitting his stride.

“Oh yeah, fuck,” Wade hisses, sounding almost pained. “You have no idea how hard I am right now, Petey-baby, or how good this feels.” He lets out a breathy little moan that does weird things to Peter’s insides. That moan’s familiar. Peter’s been the one responsible for that moan, on multiple occasions, and his mind can’t stop remembering just how he caused it each time.

“Oh fuck me,” Wade moans, utterly shameless. “The only thing that would feel better right now is if it was your hand on my dick, Petey.”

Peter’s fingers twitch, tangling in the sheets as he listens to Wade’s heavy breathing. He’s uncomfortably hard now, and it’s annoying because Wade’s not even  _here_  and he’s managing to keep Peter awake and horny.

“Yeah, I like  _that_ ,” Wade says, the sound of panting echoing out of the phone, and Peter has to lie there, frustrated, trying to work out what that is. He’s pretty sure this is not how phone sex is supposed to work, he’s pretty sure Wade is meant to actually tell him what he’s doing. As it is, this isn’t fun, this is  _torture._

“You want to know what I’m doing Peter?” Wade whispers, like a disembodied voice in the darkness. Like a really pervy ghost. Peter waits, biting his lip in anticipation. He’s squeezing the sheets, trying not to touch himself, because once he’s touched himself, Wade has won and Peter’s well-deserved rest will be delayed indefinitely.

“C’mon Petey,” Wade says, and Peter can hear the smirk across the crackle and static of the line. “You’ve got to help me out, okay? This is a two player game. Now. You want to know what I’m doing… right… now?”

“What?” Peter says, giving in, voice husky and distorted with lust. “What, Wade?”

“First, tell me what you’re doing?” Wade’s voice says, authoritatively. “Are you touching yourself, huh?” His voice dips, and Peter whimpers, unbearably turned on. “Are you, Petey? Did you get hard, thinking about me thinking about you and touching myself?”

“Yeah,” Peter groans, admission dragged out of him as he gives in and finally puts a hand on his dick. Enough precum has dribbled out of the tip that he doesn’t need to slick his hand with spit or other lubricant before he begins stroking himself, back arching off the bed like he’s been electrified. “You -ah!- you happy?”

“Very,” Wade purrs down the phone, sounding like the cat that’s got the cream.

“Now tell me,” Peter gasps, thrusting into his hand, eyes clenched tightly shut. The phone’s fallen off the side of his head and is lying on his pillow, lighting up the room with its electric glow. “Tell me what you’re doing Wade.”

“You want to know what I’m doing, sweetheart?” Wade says, a note of odd glee in his voice that’s out of place.“What I’m doing is  _hanging up!_ ” A burst of manic laughter echoes down the line.

“What?” Peter’s eyes snap open and his hand stills for a moment, throwing him off his rhythm as he tries to process what he’s hearing. “Wait,  _what_ Wade? What are you saying? This better be a joke, you ass-”

“See ya later, allig-” Wade’s voice is abruptly cut off.

“Wade?!” Peter yells, taking his hand off his dick to grab the phone and shove it back against his head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Electronic silence is all that greets him.

Peter curses, at length and with an imaginative depth that would impress even Wade. Snapping his phone shut, he hurls the offending object against the far wall, flopping back on his pillows, bubbling with frustration. He’s still stupidly, _relentlessly_  hard, is the worst thing, and he thinks of Deadpool out there somewhere, howling with laughter at the state he’s worked Peter into.

“I should’ve just not picked up,” Peter growls to himself, throwing his head violently back against the pillow and wrapping his hand back around his dick. “I should have just gone to sleep like I wanted to.” He begins to move again, but he’s just mechanically going through the motions now, his lust turned to irritation and a desire to just get it over with so he can go to sleep, damn it.

Before he can get a good rhythm going, a sudden rapping noise comes from the window, snapping him out of his concentration. Peter jumps and and stares guiltily at the window, yanking up his covers before hoping whoever is out there didn’t see anything. Then it registers that he’s worrying about some unknown person or being who is  _outside his window_. And Peter does not live in a ground-level apartment.

“Shit,” Peter hisses, hurriedly wrapping his sheet around him. “What the fuck do I do?” He gets to his feet and cautiously edges across the room. He’s used to fighting crime, but not like this. Besides, who  _knocks_ before they break into somewhere? The rapping comes again, an impatient quality to the sound.

Peter hurries to the window and peers through the darkness that presses against the glass, past his frightened reflection, to the shadowy form standing, absurdly balanced on the ledge outside his window. His window on the twelfth storey. “Wade?”

Hurriedly he pulls open the window, letting in a gust of ice-cold air and accidentally almost dislodging his boyfriend in his rush, knocking Wade off-balance so his arms are windmilling, eyes comically wide as he tries not to fall backwards and down into the dark void of the night. Peter grabs his forearm and tugs him in, not in the mood to have to go scrape Wade off the pavement. He ends up being a little rougher than is perhaps necessary and Wade stumbles, ninja-like balance for once not compensating, and falls against Peter.

“What the hell were you doing out there?” Peter demands, half-furious, half-frightened. He runs a shaky hand down Wade’s back, noticing how the costume is damp from the drizzle that’s been falling constantly all night.  _How long had he been out there?_

“S’up, sex-kitten?” Wade grins, plastering his body even closer to Peter’s, so he can feel the clammy chill of Wade’s rain-soaked costume press against his bare skin, send shivers down his spine. Wade smells like summer rain on asphalt, dirty yet somehow still appealing, and that’s Wade all over.

Even now he’s grinning, dangerous, wide and unrepentant, dick hard against Peter’s side where he’s pressed up against Peter, and he’s pushing Peter back without a word of explanation or apology, and Peter’s going backwards without the slightest resistance, letting Wade push him down onto the mattress and kiss him. Wade’s cold, but together they grow warm. Wade’s hands are everywhere, curling in his hair, running lightly over his stomach, groping at the firm muscle of his butt and then finally moving to cup between his legs, to stroke gently over his dick. Peter’s trying to keep up, hands fumbling with the edge of Wade’s mask, trying to peel it back so he can see more than that mouth, that dangerous dagger of a smile. Wade’s not giving him time to catch his breath though, let alone de-clothe him. Wade’s hand moves lower, brushing the soft skin behind his balls, fingers fluttering over his ass-cheeks, spreading them before probing, pushing inside him, fingers slick already, and Peter gasps, back arching off the bed, because it’s cold,  _Wade, you jerk, you could have warmed it up first._ “When did you get lube?” he gasps, bemused.

“Eh,” Wade grins, leaning to lick a stripe of skin up his neck to Peter’s ear and whisper huskily into the shell, “A good magician never reveals his tricks. I didn’t spend who knows how many years in ninja school to just tell you my secrets.”

“They taught you this at ninja summer camp?” Peter asks, breathless, hands gripping Wade’s shoulders as the man stretches him open, an odd, achy feeling that leaves him restless and impatient.

Wade lets out a bark of laughter, and kisses the side of Peter’s neck, an oddly tender gesture coming from him, before sitting back and briskly pulling his fingers out as he pushes into Peter in one smooth movement so sudden Peter doesn’t have time to tense. “I was top of the class.”

He splays one hand on Peter’s bare belly, gloved hand rubbing soothingly as Peter adjusts, tugging gently at the trail of darker hair that runs down Peter’s navel. His other hand is on the mattress, steadying himself as he begins to move. “What d’you think, huh? Better than phone sex?”

“Much better,” Peter agrees, breathlessly. “But don’t think this means you’re off the hook for hanging up on me.” His brow scrunches as he thinks about what he just said. “Okay, that pun was unintentional. But seriously, Wade? What the hell was that about?”

Wade shrugs, rocking his hips with a practised roll that practically liquidises Peter’s insides and means he honestly doesn’t care why Wade did anything, so long as he keeps doing  _that_. Wade’s a multitasker though, and a talker. “Honestly? I just wanted to see if you would. Then I decided I’d rather join you than just watch. Plus, I was running out of minutes.”

“You fucker,” Peter gasps, and he’d be pissed off, he really would, with Wade and his silly games, but at this moment in time he can’t think of anything, and he can’t feel anything except the sensation of Wade inside him, of his fingers digging into Peter’s hips, of his breath hot against Peter’s neck, and it’s all  _too much_ and Peter’s gasping and swearing, _fuck you, fuck you Wade_ , but it sounds like  _I love you._

“ _I know,”_ Wade says, as he shudders against Peter,  _“I love you too.”_


End file.
